CONFESSIONS OF A FACEBOOK FAILURE: Year 2
… an exclusive glimpse into the coveted and glamorous world of a work-from-home-mama.
Oh, how I wish this was staged.
It was not.
A year ago yesterday, I decided to switch out my selfies for shame, in an attempt to change the face of this fiction. So in the spirit of giving, I am gifting y’all once again with a daily dose of self-esteem, in knowing that no matter how bad it gets, mine is probably way worse. I hope you enjoy diving into my daily, dirty little secrets this December.
Now, back to today’s sinful spoils…
Let’s break down the beauty in the details, paired with the assumptions I am often posed with by outsiders to this illusive world…
Envious Outsider: “I wish I could stay in my pajamas all day. You are so lucky!”
Truth from the Insider: I assure you that when jammies are your official uniform, and showers are secondary to…well, just about anything on your long list of impossible must-dos, this fantasy of cozying up on the couch with a coffee in your comfy jams, are quickly proven false. The cozy wears off after 2, okay sometimes 3 days, in the same “uniform,” and is replaced with an olfactory reminder of your decision to replace your dignity with the duality of mommyhood and “work” .
Envious Outsider: “I wish I got to spend all of that quality time with my kiddos. I am so jealous!”
Truth from the Insider: Time, yes. Quality, not so much. I’ve lost my children for gross amounts of time. And my first reaction was to thank God for the blessing of a precious moment of actual productivity. My second was then to pray He would keep them safe…wherever they were. However, those little gems of absentee parenting are unfortunately not the norm. The reality of our days is…well, this. (SEE IMAGE ABOVE). This is what my children do when left with only their imagination to raise them.
Let’s break down the moment captured above: Please note the laundry basket, once filled with cleanliness that dreamed to one day reach a drawer (a myth in the world of a work-at-home-mama), now emptied (on the bathroom floor…joy), and filled with underwear-less buns (SANTA) and a bag containing my car keys, my contact lens case, my glasses, and daddy’s wallet (SANTA’S BAG OF TOYS), to be delivered to an undisclosed location and never to be seen again. Please also note the rope around the necks of my sweet princesses (REINDEERS, NEEDING REIGNS). And yes…Christmas music was blaring at an octave worthy of the neighbors calling the cops on us.
This is normal! THIS!
And in the spirit of my long dead Grateful 365 Project, I have decided to switch my shame to celebration, in an attempt to laugh and learn and embrace the ugly.
Grateful 365 Day 127: Life as a stay-at-home-disaster may not be glamorous or coveted, pajamas may not be a perk and quality time may be questionable, but I am grateful for every single ugly, unsanitary, and unbelievably unenviable moment of it all.
If you can relate, please LIKE, or SHARE, or FOLLOW, or read some more.
Help me avoid the morning-after-writer’s-remorse that wells from the paranoia of my signature self-shaming, by giving me your virtual nod and smile, and I will promise to divulge deeper despairs in days to come.